


For you, I would.

by Splotcher



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team (TV), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome Doctors, Awful People, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splotcher/pseuds/Splotcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Face gets targeted by the base psychiatrist who, after he refuses her advances, retaliates by threatening to send Murdock back to Mexico.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He knows all about manipulation. 

Hell, he was Templeton ‘Faceman’ Peck.

This was the face that launched a thousand cons, scams, schemes and ridiculous supply runs. He played people without fear, because he knew what they wanted, how to get them to give him what he needed, all while feeling like they’d gotten the better part of the deal. He knew he was good, so good. Hell, he even let other people try to play him! Let them tempt him with their bodies, male and female, let the tempt him with money, assignments, one thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, anything really. Sometimes he let them succeed, because that’s what he wanted in the first place. 

Everyone went away happy. After all, even the ones that had crossed the line from temptation to blackmail hadn’t had anything he wanted or needed to have. He took special joy in shutting those people down and ruining them.

He thought he had been immune to that sort of thing.

He was wrong.

Because this person…this…this BITCH, hit him in a sensitive area. One he absolutely needed to protect.

It had all started when they first met. He was walking out of the supply building, she was going in.

She was his type. And he loved to flirt. 

She was blonde, not natural, hair a little on the short side, but cute. She had a nice body, not covered in hard muscle so he had her pegged as some sort of doctor right away. She walked through the base in blue high heels. Extremely impractical, but she walked with a swagger and a ‘I am woman, see me and acknowledge’ sort of air. 

She had raised an eyebrow at him over her square frames. He had turned and flashed her a smile. They stopped. They talked. He found out that she was just transferred. Apparently she had been asked for by the higher ups. She was not so secretly proud of this. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that higher ups were unlikely to remember her name. 

But he would remember it. Bitch.

Emily Warren was a doctor. They didn’t get into specifics just then. His phone began to ring (Hannibal) and he had to leave, and she went to get her supplies.

He went back to the Team, gave Hannibal his weird stuff that was absolutely integral to the mission, and thought no more of it.

They met again two days later.

It was at this time he discovered what kind of doctor she was.

He came to pick up Murdock from Medical. He’d been gone a little longer than usual, and it was movie night, and he couldn’t watch movies anymore without Murdock’s commentary, because who else would draw the connection that Odysseus was lusted after by Hermes because the man showed up around him in underwear all the time? It was things like that which made him double take and be surprised, which was why he was addicted to it. Murdock kept things interesting, and as Hannibal said, if they kept each other occupied the base asset protection and the M.P.s could actually get some real work done.

He showed up at the office door just as she opened it. Murdock came out, skirted around her, like he didn’t want to touch her. It wasn’t unusual. He didn’t like being touched by doctors at the best of times. There was that memorable moment a doctor tried to give Murdock a flu shot and he had to be held down by B.A. After that he didn’t cook curry for a week, and Bosco point blank refused to help the doctors again.

He traded niceties with her. Oh. You’re the new psychiatrist? Sorry, we didn’t get to talk more. Yeah, he’s on my team. My roommate. Yes, Colonel John Smith is our Boss. Maybe we can see each other later. We’ll definitely talk again.

Murdock is quiet for the rest of the night. He doesn’t even seem to be watching the movies, so Face shuts them off and pulls him into the bedroom and the lie next to each other under the covers. He holds Murdock close, because every once in awhile he gets like this, especially when new doctors start probing old wounds. 

“I don’t like her.” Murdock had confided in him.

“Why not?” He asked, taking the time to place a kiss on Murdock’s brow. “Did she do something to you? Do I need to get her transferred? Do I need to throw her to Hannibal?”

A soft giggle slipped out of his lover, and Murdock relaxed. “No. She just…I get feelings from her I don’t like. M’probably just bein’ paranoid.”

They didn’t have sex that night. He just held Murdock until he went to sleep, then followed.

Two weeks later, he finds himself turning down Dr. Warren for drinks. He’s not above going on a few dates to keep up appearances, but Murdock keeps coming back subdued and…preoccupied, which worries him. It occurs to him later that a date might have gotten him insight into what was going on, but something stops him. He isn’t sure what it is at the time. He takes a peek into her files one day and discovers that General Danvirks, base commander, has requested her for this. For Murdock especially. His mood remained dark the whole day.

A week after that, Murdock came back to the base housing they share and sat in the dark for four hours. Answered in monosyllables. After he snapped out of it, Face took him over to ‘help’ BA, and then went on the warpath.

He had entered without knocking. Slammed the door shut. He had planted his hands on the desk and asked her what she had done to Murdock. He told he about the way he was acting, barely able to keep his temper in check, because he’s afraid for Murdock, because while the man can deal with enemies on the outside of his body with the ease of an Army Ranger, he can’t even comprehend how Murdock is dealing with the one’s inside.

She had nodded, fucking nodded, like she was hearing a patient talk.

When he took a breath, she had cut in smoothly with, “You love him very much, don’t you?”

The statement had made him stop. Could she possibly know…

“He’s like a brother to you. You keep him safe, you scheme with him, you spend time.”

“And?! Anybody could tell you that, lady. Where’d you get that degree on the wall, online?”

“Cornell. And I know you’re upset, Templeton. But Murdock is very ill. I’m surprised they allow him to fly at all.”

“He is fine. He can function better in an airplane than anyone else in the world.”

“So I’ve heard. That sounds like a condition of his psychosis. As much as I hate to admit it, knowing what goes on down there, I may have to recommend he be sent back to Mexico.”

“What goes on?”

“Oblivious doctors, abusive and violent orderlies, patients of particular…caliber. Put that on top of poor living conditions and the fact that particular establishment has been on the watch list for giving out the wrong types of prescriptions, ones that have resulted in the deaths of several patients…I’d like to keep him away from that place. If I could.”

The last bit didn’t escape him. A hook with bait. She was fishing for something, and she wanted him to take the bait. He’d used it before.

“It’s possible that we could keep him here, but there needs to be more sessions. And of course, I’d need to see you more. You are his anchor, I’d like to see it stay that way. I don’t want to break up what might be the strongest and most nurturing relationship he’s ever had. We’ll need to work together.”

“What is it you really want?” He had asked.

“I’m very good at reading people Templeton. And while you are not my patient, I see something in you that needs to be fixed. You flirt with everyone, your reputation is legend. So I have an opportunity to give you two things you desperately need. A loving relationship,” she had gestured to herself, “and Murdock. You win everything in this situation. Why don’t you think on it. We’ll talk tomorrow, say, Two o’clock, Mary’s Bar off base?”

“You are fucking nuts.”

“I look forward to seeing you Templeton. We have so much to talk about.”

He had left, wooden with shock and about to burst into flames with fury. That…that…BITCH!

How dare she use Murdock like that…for what, for sex? He would never stoop so low. And to make it seem like she was trying to help him and Murdock, that was…was even worse. This was blackmail, pure and simple. There were plenty reputable mental facilities, the last doctor had mentioned Germany, for god sakes! But no, she told him has just inferred…that she would send Murdock back to Mexico.

He thinks about out rightly refusing her. But she was called to the base by the highest power, just for Murdock, so she might have the power to make good on her threats.

He remembers how Murdock was from Mexico. Jittery. Uncontrollable. Ready to bolt. He had been so much better with them. He couldn’t go back. No, he wouldn’t allow Murdock to go back. 

When he gets back to their apartment, Murdock is there. He’s cooked them dinner and is standing there like a child afraid they’ve angered a parent into never loving them again. He starts to apologize, but it’s obvious he’s not clear on what he should be apologizing for, so he appears to be apologizing for everything from not being in a happy mood to cooking with Capellini instead of spaghetti and something about Bosco and Hannibal and movies and it goes on until he wraps the man in his arms and proceeds to kiss him quiet.

He would do anything to keep Murdock safe. Will do anything. But to have sex with that woman…when Murdock loved and trusted him so much.

He’d never been blackmailed like this. With something he needed to have. 

But he was Templeton ‘Faceman’ Peck. And he’d be damned if he let anything happen to Murdock.

*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^

At exactly two o’clock pm, he walks into Mary’s Bar.

It isn’t a military haunt. It’s a little too high priced, booths are too uncomfortable.

It’s ‘sophisticated’, somewhere he’d take a woman to impress, but never feel quite at home in. He loved sophistication and the finer things in life, but when push came to shove, there was nothing like the S Bar on the outskirts of town. Lots of smoke, the frequent bar fight, and occasional wet T-shirt contests.

None of that here.

He scans the room. 

She’s at a corner booth. She’s wearing a blue dress, one the exact shade of those pumps. It’s just as impractical. Had he not been so disgusted, he would have been attracted.

He walks over and slides in across from her. There are two glasses at the table already, champagne.

“You are right on time.” She smiles at him, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m glad we’re agreeing on this.”

“We haven’t agreed on anything yet.”

“Yes we have. You’re here.”

“I’m here because of Murdock.”

“Yes. But let’s not let old topics muddy the conversation. We have so much to talk about.”

He can feel the heat rising, but he keeps it down. He needs to play this close to the chest.

“I was talking to some of your old flames. They said you like the finer things in life. I can appreciate that. We’re very alike, you and I. Try the champagne. It’s a very good year.”

He takes a sip. It’s too sweet.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, placing the glass back down lightly. His voice is calm, the raging emotions underneath aren’t.

“Let’s not go through this again, Templeton. If I am to help you, we must progress, not repeat. Tell me, Do you remember your early childhood memories, either happy or sad?”

“Isn’t the usual first date questions supposed to be about my family and past jobs and pets?” He asks coolly. 

“You have no family. You were abandoned at an orphanage at a very young age. Any attempt to locate your birthparents has failed. You have held a multitude of jobs, entering the military at the youngest possible age. You don’t seem the type for pets, but you do live with Murdock, so it may be manifesting itself in strange ways.”

Bitch.

“You know so much about me. Why bother going on a date, why not just ask for sex?” He returns spitefully.

Her eyes flash angrily. Her jaw clenches slightly, then she composes herself. “I am not some common whore. I require a bit of wooing, Mr. Peck.”

He stares at her. “This is wooing? You are fucking nuts. I’m leaving.” 

As he gets up, she pulls out a file from her purse and slaps it on the table.

“You aren’t the only person I know a great deal about, Templeton. Sit down. We have to talk about Murdock.”

He forces himself to sit back down.

“He has a great deal of problems, your friend.” She flipped it open, landing on a picture of Murdock in his dress uniform. He looks unbearably handsome. The picture directly next to it of him being held down by three orderlies in a generic hospital is a stark contrast.

“Delusions of just about every type. Paranoia. Has a tendency to react violently, especially towards medical staff. Trust issues. Blackouts. Memory loss. Sudden depressive states. It’s a wonder he was reinstated.”

“Hannibal knows what he’s doing. The upper brass know that and we’ve proved it on our missions.”

“Missions that sometimes go awry. I wonder how much of that is Murdock.” She looks at him over her glasses. “I know it’s hard to understand. You are very close to him. Attached. But maybe you’ll be better off with a pilot a little more…grounded?”

He’s speechless. Because everything she just said is exactly the kind of thing that will resonate through the upper ranks. 

But they don’t understand. They don’t understand that missions are often saved because of Murdock, not in spite of him. That Murdock has already saved his life almost a dozen times over. They wouldn’t understand that with Murdock, he himself is more stable, more likely to be careful. 

She just smiles, that polite psychiatrist smile. She knows she’s won.

“Let’s go back to your place. This bar is a little crowded, don’t you think?” She asks.

He sees red for a moment. “How about we don’t.”

She closes the file with a snap and puts it into her purse. Deliberately.

“Murdock is home. I can’t go there.”

“Very well. We’ll go to my place then.” She slings the purse up onto her shoulder, slips out of the booth.

He steps out after her, and a vision of him strangling her entertains him for a minute. 

He drives them to her home. Apparently she already knew he’d drive them.

The house is modern. Tasteful. Elegant. He might have complimented her on it, had everything been different.

As she’s doing something in the kitchen, he finds pictures in the hallway. Dr. Warren with various people. Some accolades. A picture of her smiling with a man wrapped around her.

“Templeton.”

She appears at the hallway door. The dress is gone, replaced by a blue silk nightie. She beckons him, leading him toward the bedroom. He follows, raging thoughts about murder and Murdock and shame whirling through his head as she closed the doors and covered the windows.

*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^

He gets back on base after four. He smells like betrayal and Poivre, and he feels sick.

He’s had to seduce people on missions before. Had to carry it as far as sex, though only as a last resort. Murdock had understood, had always understood, even when he himself had wanted to crawl under a rock every time that hurt look vaguely registered in Murdock’s eyes.

He can’t go back home. Not smelling like this. Murdock will know, and he’s never cheated on the man off mission before. 

This will hurt him worse than anything else. He’d never forgive himself in this was the straw that broke Murdock.

He ends up in front of Hannibal’s home. He has a key, but if Hannibal was home…

Hannibal knew about the relationship he had with Murdock. So did Bosco. And both had informed him in no uncertain terms that if he hurt Murdock, he was a dead man.

Good. He deserved it.

He lets himself in, makes for the bathroom. Once there, he looks in the mirror and starts in horror.

She’s marked him. She left a fucking hickey on his neck that he won’t be able to hide, not from himself, certainly not from Murdock.

It’s all over. And they hadn’t even had sex.

The memories come back unbidden and he grips the sink like a vice, glaring at himself in the mirror.

_She’s rubbing up against him. Kissing him. He’s kissing back, worried that if he doesn’t make this good…_

_She pulling off his jacket, his shirt, nibbling at his neck, pressing flush to him. The sudden contact brings up an image of Murdock, which makes him feel sick._

_“Pay attention, lover.” She whispers in his ear. His jaw clenches._

_She puts a hand down his pants, tries to stroke him into interest. If anyone else had done it, it might have worked. His inner hedonist liked pleasure in all forms, just with Murdock best. Her touch does absolutely nothing._

_She’s getting frustrated, he can tell. So she returns to rubbing against him and kissing, but that does nothing too._

_Her eyes flash. “You don’t seem to be making much of an effort, Templeton.”_

_“Lot on my mind.”_

_“I’m sure. Maybe if you let go of the unimportant things, you could focus.”_

_He instantly lets go of her, which causes her to stumble. She hauls back and slaps him hard enough to bruise. It’s unexpected, and Ranger Training kicks in and he’s got his fist cocked back and barely stops himself before letting it fly. He can only imagine what the fallout would be from a rape charge against him from her._

_“Good. You understand the dynamic here.”_

_Conniving bitch._

_“This was a good session. Why don’t we stop here, and pick it up tomorrow, say, Nine? Here?” She leans in then, into his fury and barely constrained violence. “Perhaps we’ll get you better focused. After all, Murdock has a session tomorrow too. We can compare notes.”_

_He storms out._

He’s shaking with rage now, can’t even begin to think rationally. He should tell someone. But he knows what they’ll say. Your fault for being a flirt. You lead her on. They say things like that, always have and this is going to end badly and he’s going to lose Murdock no matter what he does-

“Face.”

Hannibal’s voice cuts in through all of this background chatter and he’s looking up, seeing Hannibal’s reflection in the mirror.

Hannibal’s features are tightly schooled. But still equal parts of disapproval and concern seem to be warring for recognition.

“Hey Boss.” He doesn’t know what to say. How does he tell, does he even tell, Hannibal that he’s currently whoring himself out to protect someone else?

“Get to the kitchen.”

He follows, still stinking like perfume and marked. Hannibal is quiet, pours them both a glass of good whiskey, refills his after he downs it in one gulp, ignoring the burn. Hannibal has to refill the glass once more before Face can actually sip the whiskey like it deserves.

He stares down at the counter, knows what’s coming. Hannibal is going to kill him. Kill him because he liked to flirt, because he caught this woman’s attention and now she’s going to hurt Murdock.

“What’s going on?” Hannibal never wastes time. 

He contemplates telling him a lie. But when his mouth opens, he tells Hannibal everything. 

About how she caught his eye and they talked at supply. How he found out she was a psychiatrist. How she had been requested for Murdock. Turning down drinks. Worrying over Murdock. The blow-up at her office. Mexico. Capellini. Mary’s. Pets. Files. Blue Silk and failed sex. Sessions. Being marked.

Hurting and losing Murdock.

By the time he’s done, he’s crying. He’s a Ranger and he’s fucking crying to his Boss like those Daytime soaps Bosco puts on while he’s working.

But he does, and it takes awhile for it to stop. When it does, he chances a look at Hannibal, prepared to see the utter disgust.

Hannibal has no expression on his face. 

But his hand is bloody. It takes Face a second to realize that Hannibal is no longer holding his glass, and good whiskey is dripping down on the counter, mixing with broken glass and red droplets.

“This woman…what is her name again?”

He repeats it for him, fascinated. He’s never seen this kind of reaction from the boss before. Anger…yes. But this…this was far different.

“You should have come to me immediately when you knew something was going on. We could have stopped this.”

“She has the authority to send him back. I couldn’t take any chances…Hannibal…I‘m sorry…”

“I know.” Hannibal grips his shoulder with his good hand. 

Hannibal is silent for a moment, that no-expression look on his face so alien. Then he smiles slightly.

Face’s heart skips a beat. Because the look on his commander’s face is terrifying, and he suddenly recognizes the emotion the Boss is keeping behind that mask. 

John Hannibal Smith is out for blood.

*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^

At three fifteen she enters her office. She has just taken a long lunch, no doubt a perk she enjoys from time to time.

When she sees him, she doesn’t start or show any surprise. Instead, she puts her satchel in the chair normally reserved for guests and seat herself across from him.

“May I ask what brings you to my office, Colonel…?”

“Smith. But I have the feeling you already knew that.” He smiles. Easy. Genuine. He leans back in her desk chair.

She smiles in return. “Is there something I can help you with Colonel Smith?”

“I just wanted to see how things were going. Murdock mentioned a new lady psychiatrist had taken over his sessions, and I like to make sure everyone is one the same page.”

“Like any good commander. However, if you are looking into the sessions, I can tell you that Patient Confidentiality will be an issue.”

“I’m looking more for an overall feel. How do you think Murdock is coping?”

“I believe Murdock is coping the best he can under the circumstances. After that, I really can’t say.”

He nods gravely. He’s heard this before.

“May I ask what really brings you here, Colonel Smith?”

He looks at her levelly for a moment, and then sighs, slumping his shoulder slightly.

“To tell the truth, I’m worried about some of my boys. Murdock comes back from his sessions preoccupied and upset, and Face hasn‘t been acting like himself all day. And Baracus, well, I think he may be in love with this old wreck of a van we pulled out a scrap yard for him to work on so he wouldn‘t keep beating up M. P.s.” He offers a quick smile at her for the last part, straining to cover concern with a joking tone.

She smiles back, offers a small laugh. “Well, I don’t know what I can do for Bosco Baracus and his…mechaphilia. Murdock’s reaction is understandable-they often get worse before they get better. Just need to give them time. And Face…well it isn’t my policy, but I’d be happy to set up a few sessions with him.”

“From what I hear, you have one scheduled for tonight already.” His tone holds a change. It’s subtle, light, and unmistakable for anything other than dangerous.

She starts, now showing surprise. Her eyes narrow and she opens her mouth.

“There are no listening devices here. I even took the liberty of disabling the one you keep in your vase.” He taps it.

Her mouth closes with a snap, set in a firm line.

“I had a very interesting conversation with my lieutenant last night. He was very upset. He said you have been abusing your power over patients, and that you forced him into a compromising position. He said you threatened him with Captain Murdock’s safety if he didn’t agree. I am also sure that you are deliberately causing Captain Murdock to go through these negative episodes in order to gain control over my Lieutenant. They will no longer be coming to you, by the way.”

“I have no idea what lies your Templeton Peck has been giving you, but I hold myself to the highest standard of professionalism and care for my patients.”

“Bullshit. I could tell you have no care for any of your patients, or you would have shown more concern to Murdock’s condition. You said ‘they often get worse before they get better’, which tells me you have about as much personal attachment to your patients as you would a piece of trash.”

She’s white with anger, glaring at him.

“And as for your professionalism, I’m fairly sure you have none.”

“How dare you. How dare you! You are going to take the word of a known conman and thief and attempt to put a blight on my reputation?!”

“No.” His voice is dead calm and it causes her to suddenly quiet as he leans forward across the desk. “I am going to take Face’s word, because he is my lieutenant, and I know him better than he knows himself.”

He stands up now, walks around the desk to stop in front of her. He leans down, looks her in the eyes.

“I am not going to ‘attempt to put a blight’ on your reputation. I do not make attempts. I will give you one chance, to turn yourself into the base commander, to confess wrongdoing, to quit, and to leave. Do it by tomorrow. If you do this, if you disappear and never bother my boys again, I will consider forgetting you exist. If you do not, I will come down on you like the hand of God. There will be no attempts. I will ruin you. I will destroy you and every brick of this ivory pedestal that you have set yourself up on. I will make your life a living hell, one you may not walk away from. I will do this without remorse or pity for you. Because you have committed the ultimate sin. You have been hurting my boys.”

He leans in closer, his voice a dead whisper.

“I don’t forget. I don’t forgive. _I take no prisoners._ ”

She is back in her chair as far as she can be, subconsciously attempting to put space between them.

He settles back, flashes her a grim smile. “Remember what I told you.”

She looks at him, speechless. But defiant. He leaves the office, allows her to put back together her tenuous control.

She won’t run. She’ll stay and fight, because she can’t stand the thought of backing down.

Good. 

*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^

It has been two days.

He’d given her more than enough time. Not that he would have let her go. Not really. The Plan was in motion before she even knew he was angry.

But there was something a bit more pressing that he needed to deal with. He sat upright in his chair and took in the conflict arising in the chair across from him.

Murdock fidgeted in his chair, nervous and panicking. Not because of the army, not because he wasn’t seeing his shrink. 

He hadn’t seen Face in a little more that two days. He was afraid that he’d done something to drive his lover away, and was on the verge of tearing the base apart to find him or to steal a helicopter and disappear.

Hannibal couldn’t have that. 

“Murdock, I need you to calm down.”

“I am calm. I am like a lake. Calm on the surface, broiling underneath, so where is Face?!”

“At my home.”

The admission gives Murdock pause, and he tilts his head at Hannibal.

“Do you know why I told you that you weren’t going back to Dr. Warren?”

“I figured she pissed you off.” Blunt. True, but blunt.

“Yes. But the reason I did it is because she was hurting you and Face.”

“…Face?”

“She was using you as leverage. He-Captain!”

Murdock was gone before he could stop the man. Hannibal considered running after him, but…no. He knew Face. Face is hiding because he believes Murdock will never forgive him for this. Not because he didn’t have faith in Murdock. Because he had no faith in himself. But Murdock would take care of it. If nothing else, his reaction to learning that the doctor was hurting the both of them was to immediately focus on Face. That’s all Hannibal really needed to know.

Crisis dealt with. He had faith they could work through this.

Tapping his fingers on the desk, he sat back, then reached for the phone. Before he got there, it rang.

Answering it curtly, he listened to voice on the other end. The conversation was brief.

“You found them? Good…I knew there would have to be some. And the…yes, thank you my friend, I’ll be sending a plane for them immediately, I will pay all costs…Oh? Really….Perfect. Send them on the plane…You don’t say…Really…How interesting…has it been examined? And the records…who are you getting these from? Richter? That’s perfect. Will he…Yes. I owe you. More than you know.”

Another few calls, and all arrangements had been made.

*^*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^^*

When he makes it home, the sky is dark and he has already received several calls and messages from General Danvirks about Murdock not coming to session. He ignores them. Danvirks is an ass.

His first stop is to peek in on his boys in the guest room. They must have made up, because they are asleep under the covers. He’ll have to give them another lecture about being careful. Later. Next week. Maybe.

He pours himself a tumbler of whiskey, sips it while contemplating the next step. It made him smile grimly. 

Today was the last day Dr. Emily Warren had a life. She had already mounted an offensive, but it was pathetic by his own standards. Dr. Warren was so used to having problems she could either manipulate into going away or dealt with by manipulating higher ranking people, she had no idea how to effectively work against him. He had say over his team, and if he decided to suddenly have a team bonding exercise, one that had been on the books for months, and just now moved in order to make the schedule for other missions…well, he had the right. He was their commanding officer, after all. 

He picked the phone up before it could ring again and disturb his houseguests. Bosco’s gruff voice on the other end told him his packages had arrived, and that he’d drive them back and meet him at the designated spot tomorrow morning.

Good. He loved it when a plan came together.

*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

She stops him just as he enters the building. Just as he predicted. She wanted to humiliate in the foyer, in front of his peers, underlings, and superiors. A psychological victory.

He was very good at those. 

Danvirks is there, moustache bristling with annoyance at having been called down to deal with another problem with Hannibal’s ‘boys’. The General was a self-important man, starting to gain weight around the middle from too many desk jobs, not enough real combat…

“Colonel Smith, would you mind telling me why Captain Murdock is no longer coming to the sessions that I specifically requested Dr. Warren to officiate?”

“I believe that he was doing better when he wasn’t having them.”

“That is not a decision you can make!”

“With all due respect, General, it is my decision. A higher power than you gave me full control over these boys, and I must do what is best in their interests.”

“And you think you can do better with Captain Murdock’s highly irregular psyche than a trained specialist?” 

Danvirk’s words were obviously hinted to him by the bleach blonde siren just standing behind him. A typical maneuver-allow the person in power to take the forefront position, allow them to make the accusations, giving them the feel that they were in control and also serving as a protector. Just the type of thing to appeal to Danvirks.

Face had used it more than once.

“In fact sir…I do.” He offered a toothy smile to the both of them.

“Colonel Smith.” Dr. Warren stepped forward. Still slightly behind Danvirks, though. “I understand. You’ve been with him for a very long time, and you are having difficulty reconciling the fact that he seems to be getting worse. It’s alright. It’s all part of the process. He’ll get worse before he gets better. I’ve seen it often-there is nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I have no doubts. Had he been with a competent doctor, I would’ve let the sessions continue.”

By this time, there was a goodly crowd forming. He even caught sight of a few enlisted running out the door-most likely to get a few friends to watch. Good. This would be better with a big audience.

Her face turned an interesting shade for a brief second, then returned to composure. “I assure you, that I am competent in every way. And,” Her eyes flashed. “if you have any evidence to the contrary , I’d like to see it.”

Game. Set. Match.

She smirked slightly then. She was behind Danvirks, so he didn‘t see this change. “Besides misplaced concerns over a certifiably insane man that you insist on keeping with you rather than a place where he’d be more comfortable.”

“You aren’t any good at this game.” He said cooly. The last comment had been engineered to make him lose his temper, his credibility. She’d have to do better than that. “And as for evidence…”

Ah. Timed it just right. Bosco came in, followed by several enlisted men he roped into helping him. Each of them was holding a box.

“What is this?” She looked between the boxes to him.

“These are your patient records. Oh, don’t worry. We didn’t raid your office. We just asked your previous patients and their families if they would give us a hand. Would you believe that a great deal of them just handed these over when I sent out the word that I was looking into your conduct?”

She was dumbstruck, so he just continued. 

“You have and amazing track record. These records here are just the ones we managed to scrape together in a little over two days. I’m betting there are dozens more. And your success rate is fantastic. High double digits.”

“My record speaks for itself then.” She straightens a bit.

“Yes. Yes it does. Because after you leave these patients, the relapse rate is high. All the patients in these boxes had relapses after you left them. There are fifty-six files here. Of those fifty-six, fourteen are catatonic. Twelve are dead by suicide. Thirty have developed new phobias, some of which are disturbingly familiar.”

“I cannot be responsible for what happens to them after treatment has ended. They must take partial responsibility for their own recovery, I can only open the door. And I have had successes that have survived and persevered. I deal with a lot of very sick people, Colonel Smith!”

“Yes. That was very rude of me, wasn’t it? Slapping you in the face with your failures. Shall I bring your successes?” He nods to Bosco while Dr. Warren looks at him suspiciously. Bosco waves someone in from outside.

The man that enters is bent double under the weight of two large boxes. He congenially allows Bosco to take them from him, thanks him, and straightens up. He is a half foot short than Hannibal, with well combed gray hair. He looks to be approaching mid fifties, with a calm, serene face. He nods to Hannibal, smoothing down his coat with doctor’s hands.

“Dr. Warren, have you met Dr. Richter?” Hannibal smiles.

She looks at the newcomer acidly.

“Dr. Richter was kind enough to give us some of the files from the patients he’s been seeing. They used to be yours.”

“I find it very unprofessional to break patient confidentiality, Dr. Richter.” She said coldly to him.

“You would think so, but I have actually been putting these together for awhile now, and I have permission. You made quite an impression. I’ve been having difficulty cleaning up your messes for quite some time now.”

“It’s just like the inadequate to put the blame on others.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Richter smiled. Hannibal made a mental note to know this man better.

“But we were talking about your success, weren’t we?” Hannibal brought her attention back to him. “In those boxes, are success stories. Patients well healed. Well, up until the point they discovered what their loved ones had to pay for their wellbeing.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Dr. Richter has signed affidavits from no less than sixteen patients and their families that you blackmailed, using your patients’ mental health as leverage. I believe over the phone I was told that there were…about eight occurrences of extortion for money or goods, five occurrences of forced labor, and twelve occurrences of sexual favors.”

He tilts his head at her. “That’s only from sixteen files gathered over two and a half days. Imagine what I could find in a week.”

“You only have hearsay, from a doctor who doesn’t seem to understand patient confidentiality and documents that have probably been forged.”

“Actually, we’ve already had the affidavits examined. But I’m of the firm belief that you shouldn’t put your eggs in one basket. So I have one more surprise for you.”

Bosco grinned as he opened the doors wide, admitting about twelve people with visitor tags.

She goes stock still.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get all of them. But Dr. Richter tells me some of the patients are too sick to move, and some families couldn’t make it on short notice. But I’ve been told they all want to see you in court.”

The visitors were stone faced, and Dr. Warren was slowly turning white.

“They have interesting stories to tell. Apparently all of them didn’t believe they could stop you. But when they found out there were others, they decided to band together.”

“You have no proof.” She hissed.

“On the contrary.” Hannibal said smoothly. “Your track record alone will get you disbarred. And with the resources the military can provide, I’m sure I’ll be able to track down the money. And with so many people testifying against you and the help I’m getting from your colleagues,” He nodded to Richter, “I’d say your career is over.”

He steps in close to her. Danvirks moves out of the way, shock coloring his features. He bends down, dropping his voice to a whisper only a few can hear. “And I’m betting that when we look through these files and investigate those suicides, we may find you more than a bit responsible. It’s not just your career that’s over. Your life is over. I want you to remember all of what happened today. This might have happened differently. You may have been able to weasel out of it. But you hurt my boys.” 

He turns to Danvirks then. “It is my recommendation that you arrest this woman for her crimes. And that you suspend any sessions she had with Murdock. Next time, ask me before you bring someone in to look at my pilot.”

He leaves Danvirks behind him, walks up to Bosco and slaps him on the shoulder. Bosco doesn’t stop glaring at Dr. Weaver, but Hannibal can feel the satisfaction radiating off the big man.

“Dr. Richter, I want to thank you for your contributions. I’m sorry I stole your thunder. I can tell you were about to mount your own offensive.” Hannibal proffers a hand to the man.

Dr. Richter smiled at him, shaking his hand, slightly bitter. “Call me Jonathon. And to tell the truth, I was glad to get the call from your contact. She’s been blocking me for years, manipulating others and casting me in an alarmist light. She was a force that I couldn’t stop alone. For that I’m sorry. But I’m glad she’s dealt with now. This job is hard enough without people actively using their position to fulfill selfish needs.”

There is a scuffle behind them. M.P.s are taking Dr. Weaver into custody. 

“I hope that your Murdock is all right. As well as the other one.”

“Pardon?” Hannibal asks guardedly. But no one is currently listening. 

“The usual method this woman uses is to attack one to gain what she wants from another. Somehow, I doubt it is from your sergeant. Or you. It is not my business, but I would suggest you give the other one some time in counseling as well.” He turned as if to leave, then faced Hannibal again. “You have done a great service to many people. Thank you. I know this affair has probably soured you on psychiatrists and psychologists in general, but if you should ever need me, call.”

He then gathered up the other visitors and walked out of the building. They watched as Emily Warren was put into a car and driven away. Without cheers, without applause, they simply walked away, back to the bus that had brought them.

Hannibal Smith lit a cigar as he stepped out of the building. Now that the threat is neutralized (destroyed) he needed to focus on undoing the damage she caused. Murdock needed a new psychiatrist. And Richter was right. Face might need a session or two. Maybe. But with what happened, he might have to wait for another transfer to let them meet. After all, Danvirks would be a bear to work with these next few months.

And he still needed to do background checks on Richter. Like hell was he letting this happen again.

But for now, the skies were clear.

 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*


	2. Deleted Scene to For you, I would (or, If if he doesn’t do it right, I’ve got next dibs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deleted scene of Murdock and Peck making up.

It looks even worse than before. If that was even possible at this point. 

He knows he’s making a mistake. He hasn’t left the house, Hannibal’s house, in two days. He’s too ashamed, too frightened to look Murdock in the eyes.

It’s colorful and ugly and he hates it so much. Hannibal has been to the house and out again. He doesn’t tell Face what he’s planning. He appears to be walling his lieutenant out of this plan entirely. 

Face can’t bring himself to be upset about that. He’s too busy giving himself ulcers over Murdock. Oh, he volunteered to help. Hannibal had shut him down, saying that he’d rather have Face away from the woman at all times. Fine by him. But he doesn’t know what’s worse, meeting the bitch again or trying to explain to Murdock what happened.

So he finds himself in the dark, drinking some of the Boss’s good whiskey, TV on but not registering, chasing his own tail and his thoughts. The couch is uncomfortable, but he can’t sleep in a bed right now.

The front door opens and closes softly. Must be Hannibal returning from work. He’s early. He toys with the idea of asking what Hannibal’s plan is, but if it doesn’t work, he doesn’t want to know about it. If such a thing were possible. 

He’s stuck in a strange grotesque fantasy of what could happen should John Hannibal Smith fail at his current plan, and he doesn’t realize there’s someone else in the room with him until that person is kneeling in front of him.

It’s Murdock.

Panic seizes him. He hasn’t covered up. His lover can see everything and how he’s betrayed them.

Murdock doesn’t move. Instead, he seems to be studying Face with the intensity he keeps for flight plans. He reaches a hand up, cups Face’s cheek where the women slapped him, the bruise slowly fading. The hand slides down to rest on his neck over the bite.

This is the end. Murdock will leave him.

But Murdock doesn’t leave him. Instead, Murdock leans up and wraps himself around Face in a bear hug. 

“Tell me what happened Facey. Hannibal said she was using me as leverage.”

He did. He didn’t cry this time. He just felt hollow. When he was done, he waited for the inevitable backlash.

“I’m going to kill her.” Murdock’s tone is quiet. Possessive. Dangerous.

It surprises Face into silence. It is very rare that his lover ever expresses that kind of emotion.

Murdock breaks their embrace to cup Face’s namesake. “I understand why you did it. I don’t blame you. I’ve seen this happen before. And for the record, I’m glad she was so revolting you couldn’t get it up.”

This startles a small laugh out of him. Encouraged, Murdock continued.

“She took advantage of you. She saw you loved me and twisted it because she’s evil.”

“I flirted with her.”

“You’d flirt with the toaster if you thought it would be interested. I love that about you. And don’t go using you flirting as an excuse for you being to blame. I’ve seen people do that too. You’ve flirted with just about everyone on base, and she used me to force you. That was not your fault. She had no right to do that. She’s sick in the head, worse than me. She’s evil.”

“Hannibal said he was going to deal with her.”

“Well, if he doesn’t do it right, I’ve got next dibs.” Murdock nuzzles his nose.

His throat clenches. Goddamit, he was a Ranger and Rangers don’t cry. But sitting in front of him is his whole life, easily accepting everything he’s told the man as truth. And forgiving him, no, holding him entirely blameless.

It hurts a bit.

But it feels…too good to give up.

They stay that way for a moment, noses touching, Murdock’s hands cupping his face. Then Face hesitantly moves in for a kiss.

It’s just like every other kiss they’ve shared. Passionate. Loving. 

Everything is the same. His heart soars and he moves fast, pulling Murdock against him as he gets up off the couch. There is a need, a horrible need, to make sure other things haven’t changed.

He pulls them into the guest bedroom Hannibal had originally made up for him, and proceeded to pull at clothes. They are naked, under the covers and kissing in record time.

Everything is the same. Murdock still gives him everything, touches him with love, looks at him with adoration. The woman hasn’t wrecked everything. Murdock is still with him. 

When they come down from the post-orgasmic high, Face finds himself with his head on Murdock’s chest, listening to the rapid fire heartbeat begin to slow. Arms are around him, keeping him safe from the world in general, and as he begins to slip away, he can hear Murdock whispering words of love into his ear.

Nothing has changed.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: The new phyciatrist on base has the hot's for Face, when he turns her down she threaten to have Murdock sent back to Mexico unless Face enters into a sexual relationship with her. Everytime Face even hints about leaving her she reminds him about Murdock and Face just can't send his best friend back to that hell. But they'll be hell to pay when Hannibal finds out that 2 of his boys are being threatened. 
> 
> Can be Slash or Gen, completely up to the writer
> 
> Bonus points for Face contemplating refusing her only to see Murdock doing something adorable that makes him realize he could never do anything to hurt him
> 
>  
> 
> Now, I am re-archiving to this site. I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to write comments, constructive criticisms, etc.
> 
> \--Splotch


End file.
